


numb: the kim hongjoong story

by SunshineBomb



Series: my silly little rockstar au [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, I Made Myself Cry, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Movie Premiere, Not Beta Read, Park Seonghwa-centric, Rockstar AU, and now i'm finally posting it, hyunsuk from treasure makes a cameo, i started writing this after hongjoong's numb cover, it's a documentary about hongjoong, kind of, so does leonardo dicaprio, spoiler alert hongjoong is dead in this one, there's a little fluff ig, this is sad y'all, tw//drug overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29753199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineBomb/pseuds/SunshineBomb
Summary: Seonghwa attends a movie premiere for a documentary about Hongjoong's life.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: my silly little rockstar au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186757
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	numb: the kim hongjoong story

**Author's Note:**

> henlo! i've been sitting on this one since the numb cover dropped, and i finally got around to finishing it lol
> 
> also made a lil spotify playlist for this thing and i think it captures the vibe pretty well i think: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4AVzchfUibHRD2s78sOObv?si=qFrcJKc_SQSL1jXgVFoqVQ
> 
> (also this is liek hella sad and i put trigger warnings in the tags but in case you missed it: there are mentions of a drug overdose so please proceed cautiously if that's something that makes you uncomfy)

The overwhelming lights of camera flashes never used to bother Seonghwa. It used to be fun, being in the spotlight for once, alongside the people closest to him. But now, he just wants to go home. As a kid, this was all he dreamed of, walking the red carpet with A-list celebrities he had looked up to for most of his life. He should be excited, he should be genuinely smiling, he should be going up to his childhood idols and saying hi. Instead, he feels empty. Being happy in this situation doesn’t seem right. Doesn’t everyone know why this movie was made in the first place? Do they really know why they’re here? He knows they don’t really care. To them, this is just another premiere, just another movie about another rockstar that burned too bright for too long. To Seonghwa, however, it’s another painful reminder of him, another reminder that he didn’t do enough for him, he could never be enough for him. 

Seonghwa’s desire to go home doesn’t go unnoticed. As he’s plastering on a fake smile for the cameras, he feels an arm sling around his shoulders, tugging him into a one-armed hug. He turns to see Yunho next to him, smiling and waving at the paparazzi. He looks… fine. He looks happy, almost. If he looks close enough, he can see the sadness behind the younger’s eyes, but he’s hiding it too well for the cameras to see. He leans his head down to whisper something to Seonghwa.

“I know it’s hard, but we’re doing this for him, yeah?” He pulls his arm away from Seonghwa and continues down the red carpet, towards a group of other attendees and journalists with cameras and microphones, poised to ask overly invasive questions to anyone directly involved in the film. Sighing to himself, he continues after Yunho, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable barrage of questions he’s about to receive. And just as he suspected, the second he steps off the carpet, a gaggle of journalists flocks to him, already firing questions.

“Seonghwa! How did you feel about the making of this film?” It’s the first question he can hear clearly, so he turns to the one he thinks asked it, a woman with too-thin eyebrows and a tragic Nordstrom dress, a cameraman at her side. 

“Um… well, it was hard to work on, but I think it’ll help people understand more about him as a person. And not just him, I think, but celebrities in general.” He’s had this answer prepared for months, he fires it off like it’s his line in a play.

“How do you think it does that? How can a film like this offer insight into the lives of celebrities?”

“Well, from the get-go, it shows that, no matter how amazing we might see them, these people we look up to, y’know, singers and actors, it shows that they’re really just people. They have the same struggles everyone else has, and it makes it easier to connect to them, I think.” The journalists are clamoring for another answer now, and this time, a younger one shoves to the front of the group, a young man around Seonghwa’s age, no microphone, no camera, only a pencil and a pad of paper. 

“Seonghwa, how do you think he’d feel about this film?” For a moment, time stops. He thinks about the question, and he already knows the answer, he knows exactly what to say, but it’s the same words he said to Seonghwa years and years ago. He replays that moment in his head, he remembers worn tour bus seats, half-empty bottles of beer, burnt-out cigarettes all over the place. He remembers a head of cherry-red hair laying in his lap, staring up at the bus’ ceiling….

“You know, we had actually talked about this one time, years ago. He told me that if they ever made a movie about him, he’d be okay with it as long as they got Leonardo DiCaprio to play him,” the crowd before him collectively laughs, and he allows himself a small smile. The young journalist up front starts to ask another question, but stops at the same time Seonghwa feels a hand against his back. He turns around to see Yeosang. 

“We should go in,” he says quietly. Bowing politely to the crowd, he follows Yeosang into the building, towards the screening room. Most of the people invited are already there and in their seats, chatting idly with those around them. He spots the rest of the group in one of the middle rows, talking amongst themselves. Almost out of habit, he does a little mental headcount: himself and Yeosang just walked in, that’s two, then there’s San, Wooyoung, Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho. There’s one missing. For a brief second, he panics, looking around for where the missing member might be, but then he remembers. There’s only supposed to be seven of them. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would all please take your seats, we’ll begin momentarily,” a small man in glasses stands at the front of the room, microphone in hand. Yeosang tugs on Seonghwa’s sleeve and they move forward, sitting down next to the others. For the next few minutes, a couple more people walk in, then the doors close.

“Alright, well, on behalf of the studio and the family and friends of the late Kim Hongjoong, I’d like to thank you for coming to the world premiere of ‘Numb: the Kim Hongjoong Story!’” Everyone claps, including the man up front. “Now, just a couple things before we actually start: I wanna give a huge thank you to Mr. Green and his team for taking up this project. I know that this will definitely mean a lot to so many people, so thank you for doing this. I also wanna offer a major thanks to the members of Inception for collaborating with the studio and endorsing this project. Now, without any further ado, may I present: ‘Numb: the Kim Hongjoong Story.’” The lights go out, the man scuttling off to his seat up front, and the screen lights up. 

And for the first time in seven years, Seonghwa sees Hongjoong again. 

///

“If you could describe Hongjoong in one word, what would it be?” 

“Only one word? Jesus, um… a leader. Ah, fuck it, I’m using more words, he was a natural leader. He was always there for everyone, no matter what, and he knew exactly what we needed, even if it wasn’t necessarily what we wanted.” there was San’s voice.

“Um… brother. He was really like my big brother, I really appreciated that about him.” Jongho.

“Fun. Even when we needed to be working, he also made sure we were having fun with it. Even though we were rock stars, it’s still a job. But, he made it all worth it.” Mingi.

“I’m not using only one word, that’s fucking ridiculous. But, he was like my dad. He could be strict, but he was always a shoulder to cry on, he was always down to talk, or just to hang out.” Yeosang. 

“He was just… nice. I can’t think of another word to describe him, he was just genuinely a nice person. Like, yeah, he was a rock star, and he had this whole “image” or whatever, but he was the nicest big brother anyone could want.” Wooyoung. 

“Genius. His mind, it was… fuck, it was something else. I could never figure out how he came up with half the things he did, but somehow… he did all that.” Yunho.

“Everything. He was everything: a dad to some, a big brother to others, and… he was more than that to me, but then again, everyone knows that, don’t they? But anyways, yeah, he was so many things to so many people, there isn’t just one word that can describe him.” His own voice plays over video after video of Hongjoong. For a few seconds, it’s him up on stage, jumping around and screaming into his microphone. Then, it changes to a home video-style clip of him sleeping on the tour bus, clad in leather and flannel, but the sweetest pout gracing his features. Then, it changes again, and Seonghwa feels his heart stop. It’s him, forehead pressed up against Hongjoong’s as they slow-dance in the middle of an empty studio, dopey, lovestruck smiles plastered on their faces. 

“I… I just really fucking love what I do, y’know?” The breath is once again stolen from Seonghwa’s lungs as _his_ voice, _Hongjoong’s_ voice, fills the room. The screen shifts to a clip from one of the group’s first interviews, and Seonghwa wants to cry because that’s Hongjoong, and he just looks so young, so happy, so unaware of what the next several years are going to do to him. Back then, his hair was bleached blond and long, when he was going through his phase of trying to look like Kurt Cobain. He has to hold back a laugh because it looks so bad, but Hongjoong thought he looked so cool, horribly bleached, greasy hair, thrifted clothes that probably hadn’t been washed in weeks, and a half-burned cigarette dangling from his fingers as he answered whatever question the interviewer was asking him.

“Like, yeah, we make music, that’s obvious, but we do so much more. We make music for the kids out there who don’t wanna keep living in this world. They’re at the point where even a new album from their favourite band or a cool new movie with their favourite actor isn’t enough to keep them going anymore. We make music for them because we all know what it’s like to be at that point. We’ve all been there, and we just wanna let everyone know that it’s gonna be okay, y’know? Even if it doesn’t feel like it, even if it feels like nothing good is ever gonna happen again, we’ll be there. We wanna be friends to these kids. We want them to feel like they can tell us anything, because we’ll listen, and we’ll support them. And, I mean, I don’t know about these guys, but I fucking love that.” Yeosang, who’s sitting next to him, smacks him on the arm as everyone chuckles at his last statement. 

“I think I can speak for the rest of the group when I say, and I quote, ‘we fucking love that,’” the audience laughs again, louder this time, along with the people on the screen. Soon, the screen fades to black, the only sound being the scratching of pencil on paper as the word “numb” is scratched into the black, in Hongjoong’s handwriting. Seonghwa smiles a little at seeing the small, bubbly letters on screen. Hongjoong had always hated his handwriting, thought it was “too preppy for a rock star.” Seonghwa thought it was cute. 

In the darkness of the theatre, as the narrator recounts the early years of Hongjoong’s life (Seonghwa laughs at the realisation that it is, in fact, Leonardo DiCaprio), he feels a hand grip his own. Without looking, he can tell it’s Yeosang, so he squeezes his hand in return. 

“How are you doing?” Yeosang whispers. 

“I’m doing okay. It’s hard, but… I can do it,” he answers. Yeosang squeezes his hand once more before letting go and sitting back in his seat. 

“I can do it…” he whispers again, this time to himself. 

///

“Seonghwa… god, he’s not gonna see this, is he?” Hongjoong’s older now, he’s cut his hair into a mullet, and he had finally agreed to go to an actual hairdresser to get it dyed properly. He’s sitting across from a talk show host, during one of his rare solo interviews. 

“I don’t know, does he watch this show?” the audience on screen laughs, and Seonghwa doesn’t know why. It’s not funny. But, he does remember watching this episode in particular. The rest of the group was with him, huddled around the small, boxy TV in Yunho and Mingi’s apartment. He remembered how flushed his face felt as he realised they were going to be talking about him on live national television. He wasn’t exactly well-liked by the press, or by the group’s fans. He was often called “an over-glorified groupie” in magazines and on radio shows, people reducing him down to his and Hongjoong’s physical relationship. It hurt, but he knew that Hongjoong didn’t see him that way, and he was able to brush it all off.

“Actually, y’know, f*** it,” the harsh censor beep echoed through the room, too loud for Seonghwa’s liking. “I love him. I’m so in love with him, it hurts sometimes. But what really hurts is seeing how people treat him. Like, who are you to call the love of my life a whore or a slut or a groupie? First of all, that’s none of your goddamn business, second, he is absolutely none of those things. He is the kindest, sweetest, most loving person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I am so lucky to know that he loves me too. I usually don’t get this… defensive, I guess, around him, but, I don’t know, it’s always bothered me, and I needed to say it. Anyways, the point is, I love him, I wanna spend the rest of my life with him, and I’m not gonna take any more of the crap people say about him.” The audience on screen cheers and claps while Hongjoong takes a sip from the cup on the table in front of him. The audio from the rest of the interview fades out as Seonghwa’s own face appears on the screen.

“Falling in love with him was natural. We’d been friends since we were six, we were the first people we each came out to, we were each other’s first kiss, it was… it was like it was meant to happen. When we officially were like, “yeah, okay, we’re dating,” not much changed. I mean, yeah, we kissed and shit, but like, before anything else, we were best friends. It’s nice, falling in love with your best friend. Because, if anything happens, you know it’ll all be okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” Even from where he sits, he can see that he’s trying to convince himself more so than anyone else. He remembers sitting for the interview, he remembers answering the question as more of a way to reassure himself that things would be okay. Because now, years later, it hasn’t gotten any easier to deal with. Losing his best friend, his partner, it was the worst pain he could ever imagine. 

The screen shifts to another video, one that Seonghwa remembers being shot on Mingi’s shitty camcorder on New Year’s Eve, probably about thirteen or fourteen years ago. Him and Hongjoong hadn’t been together long at that point, but it was obvious how far gone they were for each other. They sat together on an ugly striped couch (it was probably Yunho’s), stupid party hats perched atop their heads, Hongjoong half-sitting in Seonghwa’s lap. They were laughing hysterically at something, completely drunk and in their own world. 

“They were actually kinda gross, not gonna lie,” Yeosang’s voice plays over the video. “It was like seeing your parents being all in love and shit, but worse. Jesus, it was always damn near impossible to separate them, they were always holding hands or something, I don’t know. But despite all that, it was… sweet, how in love they were. Even just looking at them, you could tell that Hongjoong was it for Seonghwa, and Seonghwa was it for Hongjoong. They were literally made for each other.” The faint sound of the New Year’s countdown can be heard as Yeosang’s voice fades out. As soon as they all shout “happy New Year,” Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa in by the collar of his t-shirt, smashing their lips together. Someone off-camera boos them, and Seonghwa responds by flipping them off, smiling against Hongjoong’s lips. He doesn’t remember much about that night in particular, hell, it was over a decade ago and they were all beyond drunk, but if he thinks about it enough, he can still taste the cheap champagne lingering on both their lips, he can feel Hongjoong’s smile pressed against his own. And it still kind of hurts to think about, but he’s finally starting to reach the point where he’s starting to remember it all with fondness. He can’t go back and change the past, nothing can change the fact that Hongjoong’s gone, so he just tries and tries to remind himself to focus on the good memories, remember how happy they were. And even though that one New Year’s party is all but a gap in his memory, he can still remember fuzzy bits and pieces that are filled with nothing but joy. 

As the film moves into its final minutes, he tries desperately to hold onto that. 

///

He remembers the saying, “time heals all wounds,” but he’s having a hard time believing that. It’s been seven years, eight months, and six days, and to Seonghwa, it still feels like it all happened yesterday. 

Hearing all about it now doesn’t help. 

“It was… Jesus, um… it was around two in the morning… I, uh, I had just gotten home from San and Wooyoung’s place, we had a movie night. Hongjoong… Hongjoong said he wasn’t feeling great, so he stayed home…” the camera moves through the empty apartment as Seonghwa’s voice carries through the theatre. He tunes it out. He doesn’t need to hear himself talk about it, not when he could still remember it so vividly.

He had gotten home way later than he intended, and he was more than ready to collapse in bed and sleep at least until the early afternoon. As he stepped into the apartment, he noticed that all the lights were off, a sign that Hongjoong was probably in bed, asleep. He quickly rid himself of his shoes and coat and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn’t even notice the light was on until he had already opened the door halfway. Assuming that Hongjoong had just forgotten to turn it off before heading to bed, he continued into the bathroom. 

It took him far too long to realise he wasn’t alone in the room. 

Just as he was about to start brushing his teeth, he could hear shallow breathing relatively close by. Slowly, he turned around, seeing nothing at first, until he looked down. Laying down against the wall, eyes blown wide open, chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, was Hongjoong. Immediately, he rushed to him, pulling his head into his lap and checking for any injuries. Panic seized his chest as he watched Hongjoong struggle to breathe, hands clawing at the tile floor, tears streaming down his face. 

“Okay, okay, Hongjoong, baby, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Breathe with me, deep breaths,” he pulled him up so his back was leaning against Seonghwa’s chest. “Feel how I’m breathing, breathe with me, come on, you can do it.” Hongjoong said nothing, he gave no indication that he had even heard anything he had said. Seonghwa was completely panicking now. He was nowhere near a phone, his cell was completely dead, and it was two in the morning. If he cried for help, no one would hear him. He tried to think, right off the bat, he couldn’t tell what was wrong with Hongjoong. It looked like he was having an asthma attack, but he didn’t have asthma. He took Hongjoong’s hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly as he looked around the bathroom for anything that could help. He saw nothing, until his eyes fell next to the trash can.

On the floor, as if it was supposed to be thrown away, but didn’t quite make it in, was a hypodermic needle. Seonghwa’s heart sank with the realisation of what was happening. He should’ve seen the signs, he knew Hongjoong was having a hard time, he knew he was on the brink of relapsing, but he had seemed much better over the past couple days, well enough to have been left at home alone for a few hours. But being in his current situation, he knew that he should have been there, he should never have left him alone--

“Hongjoong died at 2:47 a.m. on January 17th, 2014, of a heroin overdose,” tuning back in, he heard the narrator continue on. “It was unclear then, and it is still unclear as to whether or not the overdose was intentional.” Seonghwa felt Yeosang grip his hand as the film continued. Seonghwa appeared on screen again, eyes glassy, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“He died in my arms. I had run into the kitchen to grab the phone, then I ran back to him. He… he was still alive when I called 911… but, um, by the time they got there, he… he, uh…” he inhaled sharply, wiping his tears away. “I’m sorry.” the screen fades to black before fading back in on footage of the various candlelit vigils held by fans across the world. 

“News of his death shook the world. Fans across the world gathered to hold memorials in the days following his passing, gathering in large, public spaces, or even just in their own homes. Small businesses shut down for a day or two, the world simply went quiet,” a news broadcast began, live footage from a memorial in Central Park. The newscaster was interviewing someone from the crowd, Seonghwa recognised them as the lead singer of a band that had just started out, but was quickly gaining popularity.

“I am here with Choi Hyunsuk, one of the organisers of this memorial event, and lead singer of rock group Treasure. Hyunsuk, what inspired you to organise this event to this scale? Why not just hold smaller gatherings?” 

“At a time like this, we need to come together. Hongjoong was, and still is, a major inspiration for us all. His fanbase, Inception’s fanbase, is a family, first and foremost. It’s almost like losing a family member, or a best friend. We all need to come together and simply be here for each other. I know he’d want us all to remain strong and support one another. It’s a bit harder to do that when we’re not all together, y’know? And there are hundreds of other memorials happening all over the world for those that live farther away. So, even though we live hundreds of miles apart, we’re all together, we’re all here to support one another and show Hongjoong, wherever his spirit is, that we all miss him and will continue to support him and his memory.” Seonghwa remembers watching this interview. He remembered meeting Hyunsuk a couple years before, when his group had only been established for a few weeks. He was a sweet kid, he was thankful that he put everything together. He knew that if he didn’t do it, there were few others that would. Hongjoong deserved that much, and more. 

///

As the end credits rolled, one of Hongjoong’s unreleased demos playing in the background, everyone in the audience stood up and applauded. Seonghwa doesn’t remember standing, he doesn’t remember leaving the theatre, he doesn’t even remember going home. Later, Yeosang tells him that the man that gave the opening speech gave another one after the film ended, but it was just filled with more thank yous. He also tells him that there was an after-party at some random actor’s house, but none of them went. Seonghwa nods along as he tells him these things, only half-listening. 

In the days following the premiere, he feels like he’s taken a step back from all the progress he’s made over the past several years. He used to be okay. Sure, it took him a couple years to be able to even listen to Hongjoong’s music, or even go back to his own apartment (San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang had been gracious enough to let him stay with them for as long as he needed), but he was okay. Then, rather suddenly, he gets shoved back into the spotlight, approached with the plan to make a documentary about Hongjoong, and how the members of Inception had already agreed to do interviews for it. 

He thought it’d be okay, he thought he’d gotten to the point where he could talk about him, talk about what happened, without breaking down or spiralling back into where he was right after he died. And for a bit, he was okay. The first couple days of interviews went well, they just asked him about Hongjoong as a person, asked about their relationship, asked about happy memories. It was the last day that really got him. That’s when they asked about how he died. Being asked about it, having to talk about it, was far more difficult than he had anticipated. He found himself barely able to stumble through a simple sentence. Luckily, the whole ordeal was finished up rather quickly, leaving Seonghwa to recover for a while before the movie actually premiered. 

Then, a year later, he gets an email inviting him to the world premiere of “Numb: the Kim Hongjoong Story,” and his world comes crashing down again. He had tried his hardest to forget that the film was even happening, and had nearly succeeded. He knew he would never be completely ready to see it, but he felt obligated to go. And so, a month after the invite, he shows up to his first red carpet event in six years (the last one being Hongjoong’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction a year after his death).

So now, he’s here, day five of not leaving his apartment, and day two of not leaving his bed. Hongjoong’s side of the bed has long since stopped smelling like him, but Seonghwa finds himself drifting towards it anyway. At this point, all visible traces of Hongjoong are gone, save for pictures still decorating their walls and sitting atop nightstands. His clothes have been shoved in the back of the closet, his other belongings boxed up and set atop shelves in the hallway and under the bed. Seonghwa’s been itching to open some of them, but he knows it’s for the best if he doesn’t. He’s struggling enough as it is, he doesn’t need to make it worse. 

His phone is across the room, having been left unchecked for the past couple days, and probably dead. If anyone’s tried to contact him, he hasn’t seen it, nor has he wanted to. He just wants to be left alone, he doesn’t need sympathy or pity, he’ll be okay in a few days--

“Seonghwa, we know you’re home,” Wooyoung’s voice echoes through the apartment. He can’t even summon the energy to be surprised at this point. Knowing the others, he’s a bit shocked it took them this long to finally show up at his place. He doesn’t get up. He knows they know where he is, he’ll let them find him, or better yet, they’ll give up and go away. They do succeed in finding him, however. Only a few moments later, the door creaks open to reveal Yeosang and Jongho peeking their heads in. 

“Hey,” Yeosang is the first to step in the room. “I would ask how you’re feeling, but it seems rather obvious.” he approaches him like he’s a scared animal, and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Yeosang, please go away,” he mumbles, voice rough from disuse and a few too many nights of crying himself to sleep. “I’ll be fine in a couple days, just… let me deal with this, okay?” 

“Seonghwa, we’re here to help, this isn’t up for debate,” Jongho speaks up. “It’s been a week, the least we can do is come over to check up on you, bring you food, shit like that. Don’t shove us away again.” he stays silent, choosing instead to stare off at the doorknob on the bathroom door. He knows their intentions are good, he knows he should let them help, but there’s an angry, stubborn part of him that wants them to leave and let him stay like this. 

“At least go take a shower, okay? And then we can all watch a movie, like “Tangled” or something. We brought pizza, it’d be a shame if it all went to waste,” Yeosang suggests. 

“Bold of you to assume Yunho and Mingi wouldn’t eat all the leftovers themselves,” Seonghwa finally manages to crack a smile. “Okay, I’ll go shower. Then movie and pizza?” he slowly starts sitting up, wincing as his head starts to pound. Yeosang smiles, patting his leg. 

“We’ll be in the living room,” he says, getting up and leaving with Jongho. Sighing, Seonghwa stands and shuffles over to the bathroom. He still feels empty, despite having a living room filled with six other guys that care enough to break into his apartment with pizza and a movie. He honestly just wants to go back to bed, maybe fall asleep again, but he has to take at least one little step back in the right direction. He knows Hongjoong would want him to keep going, so he pushes forward, pushes past the temptation to crawl beneath the blankets and shut out the rest of the world again. He knows he’s allowed to grieve, he’s allowed to feel sad, but he also knows he has to snap out of whatever’s going on. 

He at least owes Hongjoong that much.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments they make me happy :)
> 
> (also if anyone would be interested, i was thinking of turning this into a series and kinda expanding on this universe, so lemme know if that's something y'all'd be interested in!)
> 
> have a wonderful day, m'lovelies <3


End file.
